


Wheat in the Field

by River_Sings



Series: Wheat in the Sun [1]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-07-17 22:49:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19964518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/River_Sings/pseuds/River_Sings
Summary: Winnow only knew her district and farming. But when she's reaped everything changes... and not for the better.I'm trash at summaries read if you want to.I own nothing but my OC's (obviously)





	1. Pretty Sky, Bloody Streets

**Author's Note:**

> A/N :  
> Ok wow. You're reading this? Ok… I'm not gonna judge your reading habits if you don't judge mine. This is my first fic. It's gonna suck. Comment what you like, how I can improve, or if your favorite ice cream is also mint chip. If you don't like, don't read. (Duh) Here goes nothing...

The most peaceful place on earth is the fields. They travel on forever with only the guard towers to stop the unspeakable beauty. Every morning my family and I get up before the sun to start working and to watch it rise. I think that it’s the prettiest thing in our district, the sun against the grain. Today’s special because it’s my little sister Paddy’s 6th birthday which means she's old enough to start threshing. This is good because not only does threshing get better pay, she also looks really cute in her oversized boots.

In district nine we have strict requirements for each job during the harvest seasons, which come at the beginning and end of summer. During this time, all of the kids are let off school to help in the fields. My dad says that we should be grateful because in other districts children have to go to school year round.

People 15 and up are in charge of reaping the grains with shears. Children 12 to 15 are in charge of gathering the sheared stalks and making teepees with them to dry in the sun for 6 to 7 days. Children 6 to 12 are in charge of threshing the stalks. They do this by either beating the stalks on the sides of buckets or stomping on the stalks to release the grains. Children younger than 6 are in charge of winnowing the grains. All they have to do is stand on top of the winnowing tower and slowly pour buckets of grain into the beast so the wind can remove the chaff from the seeds.

We set out before dawn when the dark sky is just beginning to become a nice baby blue. My dad locked the door to the pantry while Swidden and I helped Paddy with her boots. As we neared the section of wheat we were harvesting, desperate screams filled the air.

It’s always awkward when someone’s being whipped. I mean, you feel bad for them because most likely they’re starving and they did something bad because of that. But also if it’s not someone you know it doesn’t matter as much. Of course it’s awful… but it’s not someone you know so there’s relief in that.

Little flecks of blood hit my shirt as we pass by. “Shit,” I whisper, those stains never come out.  
“Winnow, language,” my father glances at a passing peacekeeper and walks a little faster towards the fields and away from the whipping post.  
_God damn it._ Paddy’s grip on my fingers intensifies.  
“Hey Pads?”  
Her innocent little face stares up at me, eyebrows drawn and eyes watery.  
“Do you wanna piggy back ride?”  
The whipping forgotten, she scrambles onto my back when I crouch down.  
“Are there still pops?”  
I roll my eyes, “No Paddy, and even if there were we shouldn’t play with them. We could get in trouble.”

I hitch her up higher on my back and she gives a little squeal of delight. The ‘pops’ are the seeds on the top of the wheat during the milky stage. The milky stage is the first of three stages wheat goes through. The milky stage is when the entire stalk is green. Also during this stage, if you squeeze one of the green seeds on top they ‘pop’ open and squirt this weird watery stuff. Kids used to do it a lot but then the peacekeepers found out why the grains looked so mangy, and there was a harsh crackdown. Paddy is too young to remember it, but Swidden still recalls the day I was caught and whipped on the post. It was awful. It’s hard to describe something so painful, and I honestly don’t really remember the pain too much. What I do remember is watching the blood pool around my knees while people advert their gazes on their way too and from the fields.

I slide Paddy off my back and then I bend down to give her a kiss on the forehead.  
“Good luck Paddle, I love you!”  
“My name’s not Paddle!” she gives me a frown and races off to join her friends at the threshing barn. I’m worried about her. She’s a high energy kid and she forgets directions easily. There’s always a few peacekeepers stationed at the barn. She could forget a rule and get in trouble and there is just so much observation. I remember it felt stifling by the time I was 12. She’s a cute kid. I don’t want anything to happen to her.

We trod on and finally approach the gates of the fields. They're big ugly things electrocuted day and night to ward off animals and thieves. The barbed gray wires go on forever all the way to the edges of the district. My dad, Swidden, and I silently got in line for the finger prick.

All of the people working in the fields have the same white scars on their left index finger. They shatter the slopes of our fingerprints and subtly show how much we've worked. You can still make out the lines in my finger since I've only been in the fields for two years or so. My dad's finger is almost completely covered with dots and is wrinkled with age. He's getting rather old, at least for a field worker. Not many live past around 50 and he's pushing it. After 50 it's hard for people to stand the heat, the long days, and whippings.

I'm a little bit worried about him dying. I know he seems ok but hes getting older. I know he thinks I can't see the way he looks after every day. His eyes are sunken and he walks slowly. He looks like the weight of the entire district is on his shoulders.

Swidden nudges me forward. I'd forgotten to pay attention to the line. I glance at Swidden out of the corner of my eye. He’s been really quiet since he turned 18. He shouldn't have much to worry about because now I'm the only one who can get reaped. But he's so cautious. I think it's because right before he finished school, two of his buddies were caught stealing flour from the train. No one saw them again.

The train runs in the evening every day. We have to make sure that every harvest day we make enough flour. If we don't fill the entire car by nightfall, no one is paid.

We reach the front of the line and dad goes first. He swipes his finger over the machine thingie and it blinks green. This signals that he's an approved worker in our district. Swidden goes next, and then I'm up. I swipe my finger, get a nod from the peacekeeper and I'm on my way. The sun was just starting to rise. I steal away a moment just to look at the pretty colors against the grain. The purple in the sky is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Apart from the dresses victors have worn to my district.

I jump back to reality when a hand touches my shoulder, “Window come on!”  
“My names not Window,” I smirked. Emma laughs and pulls me over to the shear shed. Emma's been my best friend since forever. I mean, I'm close with other girls but not like her. We met in the winnowing tower when I almost fell off. Her pudgy 4 year old arms grabbed me around the waist. She almost went over too, but a few 6 year olds helped out. In a few moments, I was safely in the middle of the platform being reprimanded by the 6 year olds who helped me.

It's not that I was the only kid who almost fell or did fall off the tower. It happens a few times each year. Most of the time the kid falls. If they don't die on impact, then they die a few days later in unimaginable pain surrounded by family. I'd rather die on impact. I guess if we lived in the capitol they'd be able to fix the broken bones and mangled bodies. But this is district 9, we don't have those luxuries.


	2. If You Have An Icicle Hit Me Up...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit. HOLY SHIT. Thank you to the 34 people who read the first chapter… that's insane. ESPECIALLY THE ONE GUEST WHO LEFT A KUDOS, AND AerieAerie WHO DID AS WELL. Little did you know you just made my week. Good to know the tags are working. As always comment if you feel like it. I would really appreciate anything you have to say. Thank you if you checked back to read this chapter, wow. Excuse me to scream out a window. Sorry for the short chapters I’m going to try to make them longer in the future. Enjoy!

The sun is starting to set and I can feel the sweat on my back beginning to cool. Is it possible to salivate at the thought of cool showers, and ice cold drinks? I swing my shear from right to left as I try to finnish a few more teepees by nightfall. The sheer amount of wheat left to harvest is starting to make me sad. I wish I could just snap my fingers and make all the work go away. 

In the winter the ground is hard and Emma and I get on socks and slide down the streets. It hurts our toes but it’s like we’re flying. In the winter you can break off the icicles and suck on them like the lollipops that are sold in the sweet shop in town. There’s no work and sometimes there’s so much snow that school is closed and you can pile blankets and just calm down for a day. Of course, in winter people get hypothermia and some fall asleep and never wake up. It’s more dangerous and nights are longer. There’s a lot more crime.

My arms burn and my back aches from bending over. I can’t wait to get home and curl up with Paddy near the fireplace. A high pitched alarm sounds signifying the end of the day, and I help the younger kid near me with the final teepee. I wish him luck tomorrow at the reaping and look around for Emma. She’s over by the shear shed with Savana. Savana’s a few years older than Emma and I but we all get along. Age doesn’t matter much once you’re finishing up school and you are able to reap the wheat.

“How’s my favorite mini reaper?” Savana’s baby gurgles at me from the straps holding her to her mom’s back.  
Savana turns around and spots me, “She’s good, a little thirsty though. We weren't able to stop as much today because the reapings tomorrow.”  
“That sucks,” Emma frowns and eyes a peacekeeper standing guard, “They should really have rules about mothers being able to take more breaks.”  
I freeze and Savana’s quick to say, “I think it’s fine, we don’t really need that many breaks.”

I hope no one heard anything. Emma can be almost rebellious at times. I don’t know where she got it and I don’t like it. She could seriously get herself or us hurt. I wish she could just be smart enough to at least wait to say those things at home. Although, if someone tells on you the punishment can be far more severe than if you just said it in public. She should just say nothing at all. 

Emma looks a little guilty when she says, “Sorry.”  
Savana scoffs, “You should be.”  
We fall silent.

I mean she has a point since girls usually carry their babies until they can work in the winnowing tower. So they carry them for around 2 to 3 years. During that time a lot of kids die from heat exhaustion. A few girls die because of the added weight to their backs. Well, not directly from that, but when you’re carrying more, you slow down. When you slow down you don’t shear enough wheat and you get whipped. I knew a girl who used to be in my class at school. She was nice I guess, but never really close to me. I think her name was Sydney. She was 14 when she got pregnant and was still doing teepees. She fell behind and was whipped all the time. She eventually lost too much blood. It was gruesome. 

Of course if you’re one of the merchants who live in town and don’t work in the fields, it’s different. I’m not sure what they do with their kids because I don’t ever see them around before they start working at their parents shops. And even then I’ve never talked to them because I can’t afford to even walk in. I wish I lived in town. I mean I love my family but it would be a lot easier. We wouldn’t need to worry about food or the cold. We could wake up after the sun and go to bed when we were tired. We wouldn't have to worry about tesserae. Everything would be better. 

I hang my shear up on an empty hook and get into a line for the pat down. This is to make sure no one is stealing from the field. I hate it. I’m not sure why, but there’s a few peacekeepers who let their hands linger a bit too long. I know it shouldn’t since they’re protecting us, but it feels invasive. There’s no way to really describe the wrongness of being touched by someone you don’t even know.

Thankfully it seems like the peacekeepers on duty are too tired to pull of their usual shenanigans and it only takes a few minutes to get through the whole line. I grab my bag of flour as payment for the day. As Emma and Sav grab their bags I say a quick goodbye and I look around for my dad, Swidden, or Paddy. We try to meet up before we go home every night, it’s safer that way. 

I see Swidden gathering up Paddy from front of the pat down line for the threshing barn after she’s gone through and I head over. I end up bumping into my dad as we make our way over to Swidden but neither of us said anything. It’s as if a thousand rocks sunk into my bones. I feel like I’m gonna fall asleep on the way home, but once we get there I’m wide awake. 

Tomorrow’s the reaping. I have 20 slips of paper in the bowl. I had to get four tesserae because I’m the only one in our family eligible. Every year I stress myself out thinking about the reaping and every year someone else gets picked. I shouldn’t be that worried. I know plenty of people who’ve applied for tesserae and they probably have more slips than me. And if I’ve learned nothing from my district it’s that if it’s not you or someone you know everythings gonna be alright.


	3. Oh Look My World’s Crumbling; At Least I Have A Good View

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:  
> Wow oops. So sorry I didn't update, there was some crazy stuff… but I'm not gonna get into that. AerieAerie was the first to comment and if their kudos made my week, their comment made my month! Even though it's late, at least it's long??? Hope you enjoy.

Waking up is the worst part of the day. It makes me forget my dreams and reminds me of the world I live in. Especially today, reaping day. This is a day that makes me hug Paddy a little tighter, walk a little closer to my dad, and joke a little more with Swidden to release the tension. 

I get up before anyone else, too nervous to fall back asleep. I grab our four bowls and put a little bit of a flour mixture and water in each to make our porridge. I'd only I could jump over the fence and run into the grass, just get away from here. Of course, I wouldn't know what to eat or where to go. There would be wild animals and I wouldn't have my friends or family with me. The fence is too tall to jump, and the only opening is in the train tunnels. Those are patrolled day and night. Maybe if I get chosen I could run to the fence and grab it until the electricity kills me. I've seen it done before. Except, problem: I don't have the guts.

Dad pauses when he sees me at the table.  
“Winnow? Are you ok?” He shifts his feet and his forehead wrinkles.  
“I'm fine dad.”  
I push his bowl towards him to break the tension. He and I don't talk much, he’s a pretty quiet man. People have told me he used to be... I don't know, more present than he is now. At least when my mother was around.

Paddy starts to stir on our cot and so I put her bowl on the table and go to wake up Swidden.  
“Hey Swidden,” I gently shake his shoulder, “hey get up, it's reaping day”  
He turns over his shoulder and wipes at the crust on his eyes.  
“Give me a second”  
“No, it's almost light” I walk back to the table and resume eating.  
Or at least, I pick up my spoon. I know I shouldn't waste but i already feel like throwing up. 

When we finish eating we dunk our bowls in a bucket of water and then put them back into the pantry along with the flour mixture and water. Dad locks the pantry and I help Paddy into a cute blue dress, the only one she owns. It's a little big but that's ok, she's gonna use it for a few years yet.

I grab her hand and we head to the middle of town. I'm still in my work clothes, ratty pants and stretched shirt. There's not much use for me to look cute. Also it would be a waste of time and money to go out and buy a dress. 

The town square is surrounded by the most camera ready shops in the district. There's a bridal salon, a candy store, a bakery, and more. Of course, front and center is the mayor’s house. On the left is the tribute center. The tribute center is dazzling in a way that no other part of the district is. There's pillars and color and glitter. In front of all that madness is a stage. 

“See you soon,” Paddy frowns as Swidden pulls her towards the spectators area.  
I would do anything for that kid. There's no use answering her because of the possibility of my promises haunting her. I line up with the other people my age as we wait to be checked in. The peacekeepers make sure everyone is in attendance before sending off one to tell the mayor to come on stage.

I don't know the mayor well. I'm sure he does something but he seems pretty useless. What does he even do every day. Does he buy pastries and expensive bread from the bakery? What does he do in that giant house alone every day? And what the hell is his name?

“Good Morning people of district 9!” His excitement is grotesque and awkward, “we are gathered here today to celebrate 69 peaceful years here in Panem!” At this he pauses searching for applause. Which of course cues the bored response.

“The Dark Ages were long and harsh. Many people suffered mercilessly at the hands of our ancestors. But let's not waste time listening to me when you can listen to the enlightened voices of the Capitol!”

A giant screen falls down behind him and starts to show the history of Panam. By now, I could probably recite it from memory. Everyone in the district could. My body doesn't move but I can feel a fluttering in my stomach. 

“Now wasn't that just wonderful!” Now the sickeningly sweet voice of the escort fills the stage. 

I'm sure Varius Silvereyes had a lot going for him twenty years ago. He has the air of natural beauty but it's offset by all the edits. His lips are bulging and his eyes are wide and colored silver. I'm sure it was a genius idea derived from his name. His nails are something else because they're at least a foot long, Because of that, it makes everything he does harder for him and laughable for anyone watching.

“And now,” dramatic pause, “for the moment we’ve all been waiting for!” He pauses again to keep his audience on their tiptoes. “Choosing our tributes!” If his smile could get any wider it does. Nothing else moves, he looks like one of those waxy mannequins in the window of the fancy clothes shop in town. 

“Ladies first!” He grapples at the bowl with his too long nails but somehow succeeds in pulling out a small strip of paper.

There's perfect silence as he reads, “Winnow Ruud.” And the world shatters.  
“Winnow Rudd? Don't be shy come on up here!” I feel the whispers around me as I stay in my place. Everything goes blurry and then I'm crying.

Oh my god. Oh my god, I'm going to die. I'm gonna die. The nearest side of the fence is two or three blocks away, with the peacekeepers closing in I probably won't make it. Shit. Paddy is crying into Swidden chest, and he's staring at me. I want to go to them but I've paused too long. Hands wrap around my arms and I scream when I’m dragged from my age group towards the stage.

I know I'm supposed to look strong. Paddy shouldn't see me like this. God, everyone is watching me cry. Panem is watching me cry. Shame gnaws at my stomach and I try to reign in the sobs and my hands are shaking. God damn it stop shaking!

I'm partially dragged up on stage and I stumble over to Varius almost tripping over my own feet.  
“Wonderful,” his voice is patronizing and bland, “how old are you my dear?”  
“Sixteen,” I try to reign in my tears which just turn to gasps and doesn't help me cultivate a good image for sponsors. I'm not gonna have sponsors. I'm gonna die.

Someone's chosen as the male tribute and Varius forces me to shake hands with him. You know what? I already look like a weak dipshit so nothing I do really matters because I'll have no sponsors anyway. So fuck it, I'm gonna do whatever the fuck I want to on the glorious road to my death.

When I was younger I would've loved the tribute center. The pink carpeting alone could choke a princess to death. There's stars hanging down from the ceiling and in case you worried, yes, they're covered in glitter.

I'm ushered into a giant ballroom and the lock clicks behind me. Wow, even with the tacky decal, there's something awe inspiring about the room. If you can even call it that. There's a massive chandelier about half the size of my house. It's a shame they don't use it for anything, this would be an amazing place for a party.

The door creaks open, “Winnow,” my dad's voice is scratchy and weak. He hesitantly opens his arms and I rush in for the hug.  
“I love you sweetheart.” And I know this is goodbye.

Soon after he leaves Swidden creeps in.  
“Swidden, look after Paddy, ok?”  
“Yeah”  
“Don't let her watch”  
“I know”  
He gives me a little nod and leaves.  
I try and fail to breathe through my nose. It's swollen and probably red.

Emma and Savana are up next. Emma's eyes are red and teary and even Savana looks lost.  
“You had two years left,” Emma croaks.  
“And you have one.”  
“I'm gonna remember you I promise.”  
“I sure hope so.” We laugh, and if anyone was listening they could probably tell our hearts weren't in it.  
Savana shuffles her feet and says, “I'll make sure to name baby number two after you.”  
Emma turns wide eyed, “You’re pregnant, again?”  
“Possibly”  
“Oh my god, that's crazy!”  
“Hey guys?” They turn to me  
“I'm gonna miss you too.”  
Group hugs are awkward but we made it work.  
“Where's baby number one?” I ask Savana.  
“With her dad.”  
I wish I could hit a pause button and live in this moment forever, but life’s not fair. Too soon peacekeepers usher them out and then I’m well and truly alone.


	4. The Wheels on the Train

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:  
> I'm sure some people will just scroll down, but I wanted to take the time to tell you guys how amazing this is. Every hit, kudos, or comment makes me so happy and I’m thrilled to hear back from you guys. This fandom is incredibly awesome and supportive. I may have died when I saw there were two comments on chapter three. I'm so happy, I'm writing this before I even start chapter four. I know this fic isn't perfect, but I appreciate everything that comes my way. I probably check on the number of hits more times then I actually sit down to write. Sorry for the long note, I hope you enjoy the chapter. (I can't really guarantee anything though because I haven't written anything yet)

The train is beautiful. I'm not sure exactly what's on the floor of the car but it's soft. So soft in fact, that going barefoot may be more comfortable than wearing boots. In the past few hours on the train I've learned a few things. My tribute partner's name is Aspen Finch, Varius has an odd fascination with fur, and trains can make people sick. And that's why I'm puking my guts out into the finest toilet I've ever seen.

And just so you know, if puke could have class this puke would be straight from the capitol. It has red meat, weird green goop, and a whole host of things I can't even describe. Four hours ago I finally learned that cooking could be an art. I almost made the terrible mistake of eating the centerpiece. Which was, in my defense, completely made of fruit.

I think that the food was to compensate for having to listen to Varius for two hours straight. He was all, Tigres this, Tigres that, and _oh sweetie you should just see her fur undergarments they’re to die for!_

It might be good to note that I have no idea who Tigres is, why you’d want fur undergarments, and where our mentors were.  
Varius sticks his head in the door, “Winnow sweetie, must you be so dramatic! Simply take this!”  
He reaches into his coat pocket to grab a see through baggie with some brightly colored pills. He takes a second sorting through them before handing me a neon green pill, “For your ... problem.”  
He looks like he just stepped in cow shit. He sneered, “Maybe take a shower after, hmm?”

It looked weird but whatever capitol magic it’s made of worked. Maybe a little too much. I feel jittery and very in focus if that makes any sense. Except I have nothing to focus on other than my imminent doom.

After I swallowed the pill, I wandered into a lounge car and plopped myself on a red couch facing Varius.  
My legs start tapping, “How many cars does the train have?”  
He laughs, “How could I know sweetie, it's not like I can frolic around with all this work!”  
“Work?”  
He tosses a few papers from his lap at me. “Yes, Work," Throwing his fur lined scarf around his neck he said, “and why pray tell is that such a surprise?”  
“Just making conversation," My foot continues to tap.

“If you’re so bored, count them yourself!” I stare at the pages around me, “Sounds like a plan.” Varius leans back and resumes the shuffling of his papers, “Oh do be a dear and grab those papers, I seem to have dropped them.”  
After gathering his odly colored papers, I start my perilous quest into the unknown.

I'm not sure what I expected to find but not this. Two sickly looking people in fancy garb passed out on the floor of a dining car. One of them, a girl I think, lazily sits up from under a table. She's wearing a blue dress that seems a few sizes to big with a giant green bow. Her face is stretched and awkward with wrinkles covering a young face.

“Hey, um, I'm Winnow.”  
“Imma flower,” she slurred, “just look at my pretty colors," She waggles one of her feet at me.  
“Okay, who are you? What are you doing-”  
“You didn't look at my colors.” She seems so unbearably heartbroken that I take pity on her.  
“Oh! There they are. They’re very… pretty.”  
She nods and sinks back underneath the table.

“You think that I'm pretty?” The guy scrambles over to me and grabs onto the leg of my pants. Stunned because I thought he was completely passed out, I said, “Um, yeah sure... I'm Winnow.” I shakily smile at him while subtly trying to get him off of me.  
“Willow! Wills! My favorite tree!” He gets up to touch my forehead then walks over and shoves the girl.  
“found a tree. It's pretty like the colors.”

The girl slowly comes to and starts crying.  
“It was prettier back there! No! No trees!”  
“But look at that tree.” They both turn to me, their mouths agape.  
The girl shyly winked, “Well have you seen my colors then tree?” She licked her front teeth with her tongue, a gesture possibly meant to be sexy.

I'm honestly at a loss, “I um… y-yeah, yup saw the colors, very pretty”  
She gives me a solemn nod, “Yes they are.”  
She gasps and grabs the shoulders of the boy, “My colors flew away, will I ever catch more?”  
“Your colors?” He sounds panicked. “Gotta find the planets for help, Venus always knows the way.”  
They help each other up and stumble out the door I came from.  
“Do you mean Varius?”  
The girl flops around to say, “Yes, the planet.” She rolls her eyes and then they both stumble out of my view.

That was the weirdest conversation I have ever had. A few minutes later the train starts to slow down so I join Varius and Aspen in the main car.

“Varius?” I sit on a soft chair and lean my elbows on my knees.  
“Hmm?” He looks up from his blue colored pages.  
“There’s two ah, people here… I don't know they seemed drunk or something. Who are they?”  
“Oh!” He claps his hands mockingly, “I see you've found your mentors. How nice,” He simpers.  
Holy shit. Before I have the chance to speak Aspen cuts in, “Our mentors?”  
“Well don't act so appalled sugar!” He leans back in his seat, “If you were in 12 you would've only had one mentor!”  
Aspen cuts in, “Well we aren't from 12 and they're both useless.”  
Varius acts like he's been waiting for Aspen to say this all his life. He shoots up and dramatically points at me, “And THAT is why I have so much work.” He drags a hand through his blue hair to shake it up and then whips around and marches into another car. Only to reappear to break the silence between Aspen and I, “Would one of you be such a dear and pick up my papers?”

As luck would have it, the minute Aspen and I finished picking up Varius’ papers the train stops. Immediately I can hear the roar of the capitol crowd pushing up against the train. Which is wonderfully claustrophobic for me. I get claustrophobic easily. It usually happens indoors, and it feels like the walls are slowly getting closer. It feels like I'm gonna be squished and I just start panicking for no reason. I am so excited.


	5. Hmm How About No

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I don’t know what happened guys. School and writers block hit me hard. Also for some reason I keep thinking that no one will even care if I post or not so that stops me from writing. But I just gotta remember that I don’t care and I’m doing this for fun, not because I’m some literary genius. If you’re still reading, wow, thanks. Also shout out to grammar: I hate you

When we arrived at the tribute center we filed into the elevator. I’m not sure how we carried our mentors to the elevator, but once we were in they were mesmerized by the mirrors on the sides. They kept poking at their image and acting surprised when it wasn’t an actual person.

We got to floor nine in one piece and we were led to our bedrooms. To say mine was beautiful would be an understatement. Long, tall windows with sweeping blue curtains, the walls were shifting patterns of turquoise, and there were gems lining the sides of the walls. Although there were some weird things, for one, there wasn’t any place to store clothes. When I brought this up with Varius he said, “Oh but darling, I will be choosing your wardrobe!”

There was a giant bed with blue sheets and when I turned off the lights, the ceiling glowed with constellations. However, I couldn't really take it all in completely because I was so exhausted. 

Way too early in the morning we were woken up. Although Varius was offering pretty good entertainment. He buzzed around as his faux wings knocked over orange juice, coffee cups, and various food items. “Darlings, today is going to be absolutely wonderful!” He patted one of our ‘mentors’ on the back as she gave a soft moan, “no no no…” 

She vaguely gestures at Aspen, “They’re not flowers,” she quickly whipped her head at Varius with a glare, “You’re not flower.” Having said her piece she proceeded to plop her head into her yogurt. 

Varius laughed and said, “Of course they’re not flowers! Their team has done absolutely nothing to them.”

Aspen picked up a pastry and leaned back in his seat, “Yeah, got any suggestions.”

Varius sighed and threw himself into a chair, “Sweetie just don’t be a priss about it. Tributes are so weak willed about beauty. Why I remember a young girl Molly who…”  
At this moment I stopped listening. The food was enough to focus on. I have no idea how we could eat everything on the table. There’s breads, a cheese platter, meats, granola, yogurt, square bars with chocolate drizzled over them, pancakes, waffles, and so much more.

Aspen doesn’t like thinking about our impending doom. He’s still convinced he has a chance of getting out. Not that he shouldn’t have hope, he’s strong, he definitely has a chance. But, much less of a chance than almost all the other districts. If shears were considered weapons we could have a chance but they’ve never been a part of the games. Also the capitol prefers pretty people to win, he’s got too much acne for that.

“It’s time!” Varius snaps his fingers and a few avoxes clear our plates.  
Varius tugged on a strand of my hair, “Agh!” I slapped his hand away, “What did you do that for?”  
“Your hair needs some serious conditioning,” he tuts. Turning towards the doors his right wing whacked me across the face.

It seems like the people prepping me agreed because the minute I walked into my prep room swarmed around it. They were tiny and weird, and they twittered around me while they applied copious amounts of foam and lotion to my hair. One had shaved her head and had neon tattoos on her scalp. When she was doing my toenails I got a better look. It said, ‘Bibi quidam panem’.

“What do your tattoos mean?” I winced as a girl cosplaying a mustard bottle plucked a hair from my eyebrow. The tattoo girl looked pleased someone had mentioned them.

“Why thank you! They do look lovely! I got them done at Madame de Elliot’s just last month! They say ‘I love Panem’ and it really helps with this growing trend of-“

I don’t speak one of the old languages. However, I know enough about them, thank you school, to know that does not say ‘I love Panem’.

After ages of poking, prodding, scraping and thinly veiled cries of disgust at the ‘state of my body’ they were done prepping me. Finally I was deemed pretty enough to meet my stylist. 

He swept in with a grave that clearly said he had practiced the gesture and gave a bow. 

“I am honored to make your acquaintance Mrs. Rudd! Though honestly, Rudd? What an awful name girly! We’ll have to change that if you win! Now just hold still and I’ll get you all dolled up for the chariots!”

And of course now’s the time I remember I’m naked. I’m naked in a room with a guy who sounds like his diet consists only of sugar. I’m naked in a room with sugar man while he adds a bit more highlighter to my non existent cheekbones. I’m naked in a room with sugar man without cheekbones and this is really uncomfortable.

“Now do be careful I spent all year on this! Yes step…” he guides me through getting on a dress made of wheat. “Oh don’t bend that thingie it took me days to get the top right! Ok now let me clasp the back… and voila!”

He rips the veil off of the floor length mirror. Holy shit. I mean wow, how remarkable is this dress. It’s just so… indescribably… awful. Wow it’s really hard to achieve true ugliness with all the capitol wealth, but he's done it. You have to have true talent to create this shitbag. I truly believe this will go down as the ugliest tribute outfit. I’m floored, with all the ugly tribute costumes I’ve seen this one blows them all away. I mean I think my body’s decent but in this I just look wow. It’s insane how he’s managed to hide everything good about me. It’s like a flapper dress and it makes me look like I’m about as curvy as a brick, and somehow a really small neck. I mean the dress makes me look like my head has fused to my shoulders. 

“Do you like it?” He waggles his studded eyebrows at me.

“It’s definitely new.” It’s so hard not to laugh.

“I thought you would! It’s made completely from real wheat from your own district! I mean it took me-“

It was five minutes until we rode in the chariots and I was freaking out. Which was ok. Because the first impression the other tributes will get of me is really weak, which is fine. Oh my god there’s going to be so many people and everyone’s going to be watching. I know it’s vain but I look spectacularly awful which isn’t helping my confidence levels.

“Come on Winnow get your shit together and get in the chariot,” I’ve decided Aspen is an asshole. He’s an asshole because we don’t like each other enough or care enough to be allies. Also, if he does die if he died an asshole, it would feel better than if he died an innocent bugger. But I’ve got a job to do. And I can’t keep staring at the stupid hay bale filled cahariot with my equally ugly tribute parter. I can’t keep shaking and I can’t look weak. I mean I already look weak. I mean more weak than before. 

“Doll baby! In your spot! Go, go, go!” The sugar man pushes me into the chariot and I sway on my wheat heels. I have no idea what the sugar man’s name is? Do I care? I don’t know. 

I hear the crowd roar as the giant double doors open up. I have one final, shaky thought after district 1’s gleaming chariot rolls into the screams.

I’m so, so scared.


End file.
